Moon Shadow

1

"The local authorities found another woman dead in Boko, near St. Lawrence University, with teeth marks on her neck," Ahmed Kissamo said through the TV. A well-known news anchor for Tanzania's TBC, Ahmed's big ass forehead covered the whole screen while he spoke. Damn, it was distracting. "We've had five victims so far: all women, studied at St. Lawrence University, lived alone, and came from outside Dar Es Salaam. The authorities say a pack of wild dogs are responsible, and they hope to catch the canines before they kill again."

I turned off the TV and sighed. Wild dogs weren't at fault—it was those stupid werehyenas and their uncontrollable night transformations. The moment the clock hit midnight—boom!—they shifted. And the fact the self-proclaimed "monster hunters" hadn't been able to find them up to now was a testament to how poor the hunting community had become. What was so hard about catching werehyenas? They were hyenas, for fuck's sake, not lions!

It didn't take two balls and a pair of tits to realize the werehyenas were also students at the university.

I rubbed my forehead with my forefinger, chasing away a potential headache. Watching hunters fail to do their job was such a pain in the ass. And there were so many of them too: demon hunters, monster hunters, ghost hunters, angel hunters—all useless.

If only they had accepted my offer of being my disciples. I would've taught them so much about hunting and magic usage. Instead, they labeled me a con woman with no life experience.

Ebo! Me? Binti Nasra—the first, middle, and last—didn't have the life experience of being a teacher? Mxiu! Shame on them. Shame on all of them. Just because I was charging a price of 50,000 Tshs an hour for my intellect didn't mean I was a con.

I was rather... um... there was a word for it. Something, something, con was the opposite of pro. Whatever that means.

"Are you alright?" Mama Joni asked from behind me.

I turned and saw a frown on her face. She was a chubby, dark-skinned woman with large hands and feet. During the day, she sold food from her shack at a cheap price. And at night, she took care of Joni—her son. He was her pride and joy, and the only person she had left after her husband died years ago.

"I'm fine. You?"

Her red eyes showed the tears that had been there earlier, and were now temporarily at a halt, waiting to see the results of me being here.

What can I say? I gave people hope.

She tugged the midsection of her grey button-down dress. "I'm worried."

Eh! That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Don't be. I'm here now. If anyone can save your son, it's me. What's my name?"

"Binti Nasra."

"And what's my job?"

"Dealing with occult thingies."

I patted her shoulder. "Don't forget that."

Mama Joni reminded me of my mother; tough, kind, and loving. The love she had for her son was like that of my mother and brothers—being a middle child left me forgotten most times.

Pastor Hans entered the living room, panting and sweating like a pig. "Nothing works on it. This makes little sense. It's a demon. Faith Magic should work on it. It has to. It's faith magic. It comes from God himself."

The frustration on his face made me grin. I had told him faith magic wouldn't work on the type of demon we were dealing with, but he didn't listen. And this was the problem with the clergy; they thought they were better at things they knew nothing about. Their seminars told them faith magic was unstoppable, and they believed it. Then when they entered the real world, they realized they had been duped.